Faith
by Inuluvr
Summary: All it takes is a little faith.  Destiel drabble in light of Season 7 so far. Teen for mild language and blood.


He plunged his right arm deep into the icy cold water, grabbing blindly for something he knew he wouldn't find. His face burned as tears built up in his eyes. His hand continued searching under the black water, his last hope fading with the feeling in his limb.

He pulled his arm out, shaking the water off his clammy skin before rubbing it against his shirt. A cold wind whipped against him, sending a shiver through his entire body.

He ignored it and waded further in, the cold water soaking into his shirt and plastering it to his skin. He wasn't going to give up. Not now. Not ever. Before he could stop himself, he could hear his strained, raspy voice echoing out over the silent shadowy lake.

"CAS!"

The only response was the peaceful sloshing of the tide as it lapped at the shore. There was no sign of his angel.

"You promised you'd come whenever I called, Cas." Dean stammered out at the empty lake. "Where the hell are you now, you lying bastard?"

He blinked as a hot tear burned a trail down his cheek. His eyes scanned the murky abyss before falling to the tattered cloth he held close to him. The old trenchcoat he had grown to associate with hope and safety. Comfort in knowing that everything would be alright.

He stared at the coat now, empty and heavy in his arms. All the faith he had had in that one being, and only a dirty coat remained. All that hope and safety he had clung to so tightly; it all slipped away as his lip trembled and he tightened his grip on the angel's abandoned garment. He let out a staggered breath as he stifled a sob.

The familiar tan was tarnished with stains of blood and black goo. He bent his head as the tears flowed uncontrollably from his eyes. They burned his frostbitten face, sliding down the bridge of his nose and dripping onto the ragged coat. He stood grieving for several moments, pressing his face into the drenched overcoat.

"Damn it, Cas…" He sniffed, suddenly aware of the frozen air. His body trembled all over as he cast one final glance over the still water. And slowly, he began to make his way back to dry land.

Suddenly, the water around him began to swirl. He turned to watch as the lake churned unnaturally. Something was coming up from the deep, something—

Without warning, something wrapped around his ankle and pulled him under the surface. Cold water engulfed him, the shock knocking the breath out of his lungs as he was dragged into the deep. As he overcame the shock, he struggled to free himself from his attacker.

Through the murky water, he couldn't see anything. He writhed out of the grasp of his assaulter, swimming quickly to the surface. As his head broke the surface, he greedily gulped air into his lungs. He coughed and began frantically swimming to the shore.

He stopped as he realized the coat was no longer in his hands. He had dropped it when he had been dragged under. His stomach dropped like lead. Whatever had been in there had been aiming to drown him. It was suicide to stay in the water. But even so, he couldn't leave the coat.

It was all he had left.

Without another thought, he plunged headfirst into the water. It didn't matter if he died. Death didn't frighten him. Losing that last bit of hope. That little bit of faith he had invested in that old coat. The last shred of confidence that kept him sane after everything that had happened. Losing _that_ terrified him.

He dove deeper and deeper, squinting through the cloudy waters. It was only seconds before the light from the surface disappeared behind him and he was in complete darkness.

He exhaled, bubbles pluming like jellyfish from his nose. He reached the sandy bottom of the lake, swimming along the ground and searching. His chest was tight, no air left in his lungs. With no other choice, he kicked off the ground and pulled himself to the surface.

He took several deep breaths, his heart beating heavily against his chest. He took only a few moments to recuperate, however, before he dove back into the water. He wasn't leaving until he found it.

The second time under, he seemed to reach the bottom in much less time. He glanced over the sand and rocks until his eyes landed on the coat swaying peacefully in the currents. With a great hope, he swam to it with an outstretched hand. A wave of relief washed over him a he felt the rough material in his grasp.

A sudden sharp pain in his side ripped a shout from his throat. He watched as precious air escaped to the surface. He turned his attention to his side, blood seeping into the water from a small bite mark on his oblique. He squeezed his eyes shut as the pain flooded over him. He tried to swim up, only to find that his body was slowly going numb. He had been poisoned.

Struggling to stay conscious, he began to swim away from whatever was attacking him. It latched onto his ankle again, however, and dragged him quickly in the other direction. It abruptly stopped tugging, but did not release him. He pulled a small pocket knife out of his pants pocket to fight his assailant. He turned to face his enemy and froze, his heart sinking.

In front of him, two familiar blue eyes bore into him, pleading with him. Dean's eyes stretched wide as his mind registered what he saw.

The man— his angel— floated helplessly in the water, chains bound around his wrists and ankles. Sharp hooks protruded crudely from the vessel's chest, much like the ones Dean remembered from his time in Hell. His face was bruised and cut, and his clothes were tattered and stained with blood. His skin was raw and bloody from the chafing restraints. Dean felt a sharp stab of pain as he saw his fallen angel, beaten and tortured, and utterly helpless.

But what hurt Dean the most was not the vessel's physical condition. What tore his heart was what was behind the vessel's body.

Two large, beautiful wings stretched behind his angel, battered and bloody. They protruded unnaturally from the man's body and it took a moment for Dean to realize why. They were broken at the joints, swaying abnormally in the lake's light currents.

Dean could do nothing but stare for several seconds, his tears mixing into the icy waters. His enemy released his ankle and slithered into the darkness before reappearing behind Castiel.

A long, revolting creature similar to an eel snaked its way around the fallen angel. It wrapped around the crippled wings first, eliciting a choked scream from its victim, before slithering around the vessel's body. It then turned to Dean, who was fighting to stay conscious.

The poison was working its way quickly through his veins, blurring his vision and numbing his body. He was almost out of air, straining to delay the dizziness. He peered back at the begging blue eyes with remorse, only to have his angel return his gaze with an equally regretful stare.

_"I'm sorry, Dean."_ His angel's voice was barely a whisper in his head. "_I heard you call… but I didn't come." _Dean's vision was almost gone, but he could see the vague figure of Castiel floating in front of him. He wanted to reach out and hug the tortured man, but his energy was fading quickly with his vision.

He reached a hand toward the angel, already knowing that he wouldn't be able to reach him. Through darkened vision, he saw his angel fight weakly against his chains and the beast wrapped around him. Before darkness engulfed him, Dean saw Castiel stretch his hand towards him.

Their fingertips brushed as the last bit of Dean's air escaped through his lips. Unable to hold his breath any more, he breathed in. Water filled his lungs, and his body spasmed as he drowned.

_"Dean. I accept that you don't forgive me for what I've done, for I have done unforgivable things. But please, don't think that I care any less for you. That you don't matter to me." _

Dean felt nothing but the cold. He knew his body was drifting, and his brain was slowly dying. His cognizance was slowly fading, but he held on to every last word.

_"I will fix this, Dean. Have faith in me."_

—-

Dean's eyes flicked open as he gasped for breath. For a moment, he was blinded by a bright, white light. A searing white pain shot up his stomach, and he let out a loud yell.

All around him, sound slowly began to grow. He could hear bustling people, the wheels of carts. His vision slowly faded into color and he found himself in a hospital bed. He turned his head to the right and saw Sam sleeping soundly with an oxygen mask covering his face.

Memories flooded back to him. The fight with the leviathans, Sam's seizure… Bobby. Cas. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Castiel's words echoed in his mind.

He would get out of the hospital with Sam. He would hunt down every last leviathan and kill them, no mercy.

Then he would find his angel. He would cling to that little faith he had left until he died. And he would find his angel and give him the forgiveness he deserved.

He had never given up hope, and he never would. Because he knew. He knew more than anything else. He knew, after hearing those words, after feeling the brush of his fingertips.

He knew Castiel was alive.


End file.
